Misfortune in Midsummer
by MercuryFumes
Summary: Ivan Braginski, who is so deeply in love with the one and only Anastasia Romanov, is sneaky. Sneaky enough to defy the guards of Anastasia's house. Occasionally he sneaks in and they watch the sun go down together. After one particular night, however, Ivan wakes up to find the unexpected.


**Hello! Just an unannounced fic I slopped together in a couple of hours due to being on Thanksgiving break and having nothing to do. **

**WARNING: This fanfiction includes death, gore, and violence. **

**Unfortunately no sex scenes, since it would seem highly out of context, so, sorry!**

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"I love you," the strawberry brown-haired, young woman cooed as she took the platinum blond's hand with her own. He grinned at her, and leaned in to place a light, feathery kiss on her plump lips. His breath had the faintest taste of mint. The hands of time stopped as their lips moved together as one. His lips were so soft against hers, trying to express all that he felt for her. Ivan smiled against the by-a-year younger's lips, pulled away, and gazed into her beautiful ocean-blue eyes.  
"I love you too," Ivan replied just as sweetly as she had spoke. Anastasia grinned and squeezed his hand tightly as they turned back to look out the window of her very, very expensive house. Ivan wasn't even supposed to be there, and he would probably be shot dead if he was found, but that didn't matter to the two lovers. Love overthrew their fears and worries. Anastasia was seventeen, Ivan eighteen. Her father knew Ivan all too well, and he despised him because of his family's social rank and wealth. Plus, Ivan was of-age, and Anastasia was not, and that just drove her dad mad as well.

The city outside was just barely lit up with the hazy sunset on the horizon. However, the light struck Saint Basil's Cathedral just so, and it ignited the bright colours. The Russian male looked over at the other, absolutely adoring how excited she looked about the sunset. Anastasia was always so full of energy and excitement, and it made the older feel like a new man whenever he was around her. She made his dreary feelings disappear, and she made him feel as energetic as a child on a sunny afternoon playing ball with their friends in a pasture.

"God... It's beautiful." she spoke softly, quiet enough that it took Ivan a few seconds to process what she said.  
"It is too bad we can not spend every evening like this, hm?" he cooed, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his head on her's because she was simply that short.  
"We could..." she considered, turning her head to look up at him, "We could sneak out every night and meet up and climb the highest tree, or the highest building and sit together and watch the sunset!" Ivan watched her lips as they moved when she spoke and, once she was finished, kissed her softly, chuckling.  
"I suppose it would not hurt to try, yes?" After that, the violet-eyed boy looked up and saw that the sun was lowering quick, and if he didn't leave soon, Anastasia's maid would come and discover him and then he would be dead meat. Anastasia realised that, too, and pulled Ivan down for a kiss before pulling away.  
"Go, before they catch you." she said, her tone of voice quick and urgent. He nodded and climbed out the window after hugging and kissing her one last time, before making his way through the house's yard and over the wall.

That was on the evening of July 16, one day before the following event occurred.

Ivan had just woken up in his back garden. It took him about three minutes to remember why and how he got there. The Russian had laid out in the cold, staring up at the stars and making patterns by connecting lines only he would be able to see, thinking about Anastasia and imagining their future together. Despite the chilly temperature, Ivan had fallen asleep outside anyway.

He rose to his feet, deciding to maybe try to get Anastasia to come outside so he could steal her away for the day, but when he came up to the opposite side of the street from where her fancy house was, the Russian love bird instantly knew that there was something wrong. The house didn't have its familiar, warm, and welcoming feeling to it. Something was very, very wrong. He crossed the street and walked the length of the fence until he came to their front gate, looking up and down the house. The front door was broken inward- it was an outward swinging door- and the glass in it was shattered.

"Anastasia?" he whispered, wearily approaching the front porch. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pocket knife, opening it and stepping up the steps. Immediately he knew something was wrong when he smelt the metallic, coppery scent of blood, and stepped inside. Ivan immediately regretted his decision upon seeing Anastasia's mother, father, eldest sister, and brother, all slaughtered, laying on the floor. Still, he pushed on, following the scent down into the cellar. It was his absolute number one goal to find Anastasia, and he was praying that she had managed to escape with her sister and their maid. His prays were unfortunately declined as he saw the three bodies laying there, bleeding and obviously beaten.

"Anastasia..." the Russian whined, dropping to his knees. His chest grew very tight and his throat felt like someone had shoved a rag down his throat while constricting it. Ivan was shaking, putting a hand over his nose and mouth so he wouldn't alert anybody with the loud sob that followed shortly after. He didn't know what to do. He could barely hear the nature that was filtering in through the front door that was kicked open. He could barely see anything in front or to the sides of him. His vision was turning scarlet, despite the fact that he was uninjured. Physically, he was uninjured, at least.

Ivan closed his pocket knife and slipped it back into his trousers, making his way towards the bodies that oh, reeked of so much blood and gore. He found his precious angel and completely shattered. Everything felt fake. How cold and pallid Anastasia was as she lay there on the freezing concrete. Her blood, although looking as warm as a midsummer's day, was sticky and cold. Ivan felt cold, as well, and it wasn't because of the nip the wind brought in the air. He felt like everything inside of him had evaporated. Every heartwarming feeling, every happy emotion. It all vanished as he looked down at the corpse and, wish a shaking hand, he stroked her cheek, smearing blood all the way down.

The Russian wrapped his arms around the girl, lowering his face to her lifeless chest, and just sobbed. He was shaking and hyperventilating and nearly screaming curses into the body that once held a bright, energetic soul. Ivan couldn't think straight. He couldn't see straight. Nothing made sense to him, and he couldn't process anything around him. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but once he gathered himself to at least calm down to the point where the Russian could control his actions, he stood up and forcefully left her corpse despite how desperate he was to wait and watch her open her eyes. He kept thinking that if he turned his back, Anastasia would crack open her ocean-blue eyes, turning to her sister with a hand over her mouth to keep a fluttery giggle quiet. That she would get up and sneak over to him, jump on his back, and say that it was a joke and that she loved him.

It never happened, and on his way back to his home, Ivan stopped to look up at the sky. How coincidental it was, that the sky was the exact shade of Anastasia's eyes.


End file.
